Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(60)

Justine didn’t know what to say. She was amazed by her own reaction, the darts of heat that went through her. She had to admit that she was intrigued. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would end well. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to refuse.

“I can do that for you,” Jason said, “if you’re willing to trust me.”

Her lips had gone dry. “Should I?”

“I hope you will.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no.”

Justine let out an uneven laugh. “Damn you. Why don’t you just say yes?”

“Because trust is not something I can talk you into. It’s your choice. What does your gut tell you?”

“I don’t trust my gut, either.”

Jason was silent, waiting patiently.

She didn’t understand herself, why she was even considering it. The rational side of her brain was aware that he was tempting her into some kind of novelty sex. But her intuition pulled toward a different understanding. As she stared into his midnight eyes, a word came to mind … “charmer.” Not the modern definition of the word, but the ancient biblical meaning: a worker of spells, binding blessings or curses to an object using knotted cord.

One night, and then he would leave.

“Promise you wouldn’t trick or hurt me,” she said suddenly.

“I guarantee it.”

Flutters awakened inside her as he fitted his hands at her waist. “What if I don’t like it? What if I want you to stop?”

“You’ll have a safe word. The second you say it, I’ll stop.”

“What if I forget my safe word?”

His lips twitched. “All you have to do is answer a security question, and I’ll send you an e-mail to reset it.”

Justine smiled uncertainly and took a nervous breath. There was no compelling reason to trust him; in the most objective terms, they hardly knew each other. And yet somehow he seemed to understand her better than any man ever had.

“Okay,” she managed to say. “You can spend the night with me. And in the morning, you’re out of here. Deal?”

“Deal.”

She led the way to her bedroom, excruciatingly aware of his footsteps behind her. She turned on the bedside lamp and opened the closet door.

“Cinnamon,” Jason said, as a whoosh of spiced air was pushed outward by the motion of the door.

“It’s a clothes sachet.” Actually the fragrance was from the besom broom she kept at the back of the closet, the rushes heavily anointed with cinnamon oil. However, she wasn’t about to start displaying all her craft-related accessories—not her broom, candles, or crystals, and especially not her spellbook. Standing on her toes, she reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a bundle of soft red hemp rope, no more than five millimeters in diameter. Hesitantly she gave the little bundle to Jason.

After running his fingers along the fibers to make certain they were soft, Jason glanced at Justine quizzically. “What do you use this for?”

“Spell-casting circles.”

“It’s perfect. Do you have any more?”

Hesitantly she retrieved two more bundles. As Jason took the rope, Justine thought there was something interesting in the idea of using rope from her rituals for a ritual of his. She watched him unroll one of the lengths of hemp. “You’re not planning to mummify me, right?”

He shook his head. “I only know a few basics. But a Shibari master would need more rope for complex patterns and suspensions.”

“Suspensions?” she asked with vague alarm. “Hanging in the air? Like a Christmas ornament?”

Jason grinned briefly. “Don’t worry. You’re staying on the ground.”

She let him draw her to the bed. His manner was relaxed, deliberate. A ritual, he’d said. She understood the value of rituals, designed to provide structure and meaning. But sex as a ritual was a new concept. How had Jason guessed at something she had never known about herself?… That her innermost desires might extend to something like this. What had been the giveaway? What had she said or done?

She remained standing as he sat on the edge of the mattress. He pulled her between his spread knees. “What if I like this?” she asked anxiously. “What does that mean?”

He understood what was worrying her. “Everyone has secrets. Twists and kinks they wouldn’t necessarily want other people to know about. There’s nothing wrong with having fantasies.”

His fingers went to the fastenings of her jeans and worked at them deftly. Justine kicked off her sandals and held on to his shoulders, feeling bewildered and scared and excited as she lifted one leg out of her jeans, then the other. Jason pushed up the hem of her knit shirt, and she pulled it over her head. Seeing the tiny copper key dangling from the chain around her neck, he asked, “Would you mind if we took that off?”

Justine hesitated before lifting the long chain over her head and setting it on the nightstand.

Jason touched her breast over the unlined bra, stroking the curve with the pads of his fingers and then the backs of his knuckles. Leaning forward, he pressed his parted lips against the deep curve. She felt him breathing hotly, sucking through the fabric until it was wet and her nipple jutted into the delicious ache.

“What’s your safe word?” he whispered.